I was a senior in high school and I was looking forward to going to prom.
My dad was teasing me about it, saying there was much more to look forward to than going to a dance in a rented tuxedo.
At age seventeen, I disagreed.
He asked who I was going with, and I said Cameron.
He got excited for a second, and asked if Cameron was a girl or a boy.
I said she was a girl, and his brief happiness turned to a mini frown. "How cliché," he said.
He was joking of course. Sort of.
Only three years previously he told me he was gay. I still wasn't comfortable having a gay dad, although I had gotten used to it.
Thankfully, he lived in San Francisco, and none of my friends (or my prom date) ever met him because we all lived in San Diego.
I went to prom with Cameron. It was uneventful. Dad was right. Like he often was. There was much more in life to look forward to.
Like the ten years after prom that I got to spend with my dad before he died of AIDS on September 29, 2000.
For those counting, that was twenty years a few months ago.
So much of my world view was shaped in those ten years – mostly unbeknownst to me at the time.
I lost touch with Cameron. I have no idea what she's doing now or where she lives. It might be cool to reach out and tell her this story.
I wonder what she'd think.